


Fireside

by SaxSpieler



Series: Verǫld Vǫrðr [18]
Category: Runescape
Genre: Angst, Gen, Panic Attacks, Reconciliation, Tobacco use, oh hey look another fic named after a song, slight body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 19:50:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8635912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaxSpieler/pseuds/SaxSpieler
Summary: After the events of “Monster” Wahisietel and Finley attempt to patch things up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to this fic: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7409308
> 
> Direct prequel to the events of 'Children of Mah'

He waited by the Gate, carefully planning out each word he was going to say.

He would be firm. Blunt, but not insensitive. He would say what needed to be said and then take his leave.

And, most importantly, he wouldn’t joke.

No, that was his mistake last time. Well, his _first_ mistake, anyway.

His second one was drilling a fist through the nearest wall.

He wasn’t entirely to blame for that incident, however.

 _She_ had started it. Pushed him further and further. Refused to stop. Dug her proverbial knife deeper and deeper, carving out the truth and shoving it back in his face repeatedly.

Such was the reason for this meeting - to fix what had been broken. Or, at least, attempt to do so.

And, he hoped that she would be at least as willing as himself to try.

Adjusting his scarf in a motion that had become a rote outlet for restless hands, he chuckled to himself, his mouth never quirking from its customary neutral set. It was almost ironic, meeting her here in his true form - a form that most humans nowadays would find far more frightening than any one of his various disguises over the centuries - in some odd, backwards gesture of peace and genuinity.

Last she saw him, he had soured his human form, in a way. This form’s reputation remained unsullied to her.

Then again, it bore certain, unfortunate resemblances to someone else - someone she was very much now in open war with…

Before he could second guess his decision of forms, the air shifted slightly, the portal in the center of the World Gate brightening.

_Here we go…_

The swirling verdant energy parted for a moment, and Finley stepped, or stumbled, through.

She looked at him, and, for a moment, it looked as though she would turn around and flee back through the Gate. Her eyes widened, and he saw her flinch, her body trembling.

“Finley,” he said simply, quietly. At that, she relaxed a bit - though she still radiated apprehension - and took half a step forward.

“Aye…Wahisietel. How are you?”

For a moment, he himself wanted to flee and get the sound of her voice - shaking, pained, and dripping with fear - clear from his ears. Yet, he stayed, feet rooted to the forest floor.

“I’m doing well, all things considered. And you?”

A low grunt was all that answered him, coupled with a dismissive shrug. The elven crystals powering her leg bracers sparked suddenly, as if to berate their owner, and she stumbled in place, gasping and hissing.

“Gah…fine. I’m fine. I just need to get back to a wisp colony and keep recharging these blasted things.”

 _That’s my cue,_ he thought, reaching into his satchel and extracting a small jar. Brilliant golden energy swirled inside, casting a warm glow around the otherwise dusky clearing, and he saw Finley’s eyes widen at the sight.

“I had it in mind that you might need some of this. There’s a good source just south of Sophanem, if you’re in the area.”

At this, she looked away slightly, and the corners of Wahisietel’s mouth pulled back in a grim attempt at a half-smile. She hadn’t been ‘in the area’ for nearly a month, now, her visits halted after the…incident.

As Finley’s bracers sparked again and she stumbled more, he motioned to the clearing.

“You should sit. Rest. I’ll make us a fire, if you want.”

A few seconds passed, Finley glancing at the jar of energy - the peace offering, the invitation back to the place that she had considered ‘home’ for little over a year - in Wahisietel’s hand. He spoke again, hoping to hammer in the point he was trying to make.

“And, we need to talk.”

Finally, slowly, she nodded.

“Aye, we do.”

***

The clearing was soon alight with a crackling campfire. Finley, once her outer coat and armor had been doffed and folded neatly nearby, had busied herself with removing her bracers, grimacing and sighing in relief as she finally unlatched them from around her legs.

Wahisietel took this as a step in the right direction. She still trusted him, it seemed - he mused that she wouldn’t take off her bracers, let alone her armor, for Sliske, at least.

After casting the bracers aside, she removed the charge pack from around her waist and began to siphon the energy he had brought for her into the almost depleted container. It was then that he noticed spots of blood dotting her trousers around her knees and calves, and he scratched his chin at the sight.

“Do they hurt you? The bracers?”

She looked up and followed his eyes to the blood.

“Not my legs. Still can’t feel anything there. They’re bloody hell on my back, though.” She scooted around in place - rather awkwardly, given she could only use one hand to do so - and lifted the back of her undertunic slightly. Sitting at the base of her spine, embedded into the flesh like a parasite, was a small device of metal and elven crystal. The skin around it was bruised and scarred, the crystals from the device having grown into her lower back and up her spine like choking ivy. “This little bastard lets me move the bracers” - she nodded to the contraptions, one of which flexed its knee joint as if in response - “but it came with some side effects.”

“Ah. Have you talked to a healer about that?”

“Aye, I have.” She nodded, turning back around and dabbing at the drying blood on her knees. “He shoved some herbs down my throat, but I couldn’t stop sneezing and broke out in some nasty hives after he did. Then he tried stabbing a needle into my spine. Didn’t go back after that.”

“Hm. I became decently well-versed in thaumaturgical healing and pain reduction methods during my time as a…during my time in the Empire. If you want, we could try those. There’d be no chance of allergic reactions, I can be certain of that-”

_“Wahisietel…”_

Her sigh shut him up. She wiped her hand on the grass, leaving trails of red behind.

“Look, I know you didn’t come here to shoot the breeze about back pains and allergies,” she said, voice low. “You…you came here to talk about what happened. Back at your house.”

“I did,” he murmured, silently berating himself for not sticking to the original plan of being as succinct as possible. “I did.”

Relative silence fell over the clearing, the only sound the crackling of the fire.

“So,” Finley said, now idly tearing the bloodstained grass from the ground. “Do you want to go first, or should I?”

Wahisietel sighed, deciding to forget the plan entirely. Perhaps it was best to take things a bit slower.

“We both have things that need to be said, Finley. Things of equal importance, if I’m guessing right.”

“Aye,” Finley chuckled mirthlessly, tossing the torn grass aside. “We could just yawp at each other simultaneously, then. Get it all out at once and wipe the slate clean.”

“Hmph.” He couldn’t help his slight smile at the image of he and Finley literally screaming their apologies at each other over the campfire. “If we did that, we would be casting our problems and our gripes with each other aside, as if they didn’t exist in the first place. Nothing would get fixed in the long run.”

She didn’t answer immediately aside from a quick nod of her head and went back to dabbing at her bloodied knees. Wahisietel, eager to busy his hands again, reached back into his satchel and extracted his pipe. Dispensing a carefully measured amount of tobacco into the bowl and lighting it, he worried the bit slightly with his teeth, waiting for the leaves to smoulder.

Finally, he drew a breath and exhaled a smoke ring, which mingled with the smoke from the campfire momentarily before dissipating.

The smoke had no effect on him in this form. The routine, however, served well to steady his mind.

As he blew a second smoke ring, he heard Finley resume her grass-tugging. Finally, she spoke.

“Wahisietel, I’m…gods, I’m sorry. You’re no coward - I know that - and it was right scummy of me to call you such.” Tossing another handful of grass aside, she continued. “And, considering all that’s happened, it was also right scummy of me to compare you to… _Sliske_ …like I did.” She faltered on his half-brother’s name, as if the very mention of him would bring on another assault to her back. “It was a big, scunnersome mess, what I said…and I apologize for saying it all.”

 _You weren’t entirely incorrect, Finley,_ Wahisietel thought to himself, lowering his pipe, _regarding your comparison. But, we’re not here to dwell on that._

“You were angry. Hurt in many more ways than one. Though what you said was indeed a, ah, ‘big, scunnersome mess,’ I understand why you said everything you did.” He took another pull on his pipe, continuing after blowing a third smoke ring. “And, I admit, I didn’t help the situation at all. You and I deal with shock and grief very differently, and it was a misstep on my part to try and apply my own coping mechanisms to you. I can’t say what I should have done in that situation - because I don’t quite know - but I apologize for coming across as insensitive and enabling of Sliske’s actions. That was not my intent.”

“Aye,” Finley sighed, seemingly in relief. “I understand. Thank you.”

“Thank you as well.”

An almost palpable calm settled over their makeshift camp as the sun finally set.

_Thank Zaros that’s done._

“So,” Wahisietel began briskly, tapping out the spent tobacco from the bowl of his pipe and grabbing another pinch. “How are things going along with you and Akthanakos?”

“Better. Definitely better.” He could see Finley blush slightly from across the campfire as he lit the pipe, and suppressed a chuckle. “My recovery was hard on him, too. Emotionally, I mean.”

“Care to elaborate? He wouldn’t tell me much when I asked.”

“Ah, aye, I suppose.” She yanked her legs into a semi cross-legged arrangement, having finished her one-handed attempts at landscaping the grass around her. “It wasn’t just the screaming and the crying on my part because of my legs or anything _physical_ like that. It was…well…I’d wake up and see his face next to mine, and sometimes, I’d swear I’d see Sliske’s face instead.” Her hand went to her braids, fingers tangling in them. When she continued, her voice was quavering and far too quiet. “I hated waking up to that.”

A shiver ran down the back of Wahisietel’s neck, a million and one thoughts coursing through his mind. However, only a single word made it out.

“Oh.”

“Aye.” She yanked her hand from her hair, voice returning mostly to normal. “Doesn’t happen anymore. Much, anyway. I still have dreams about it, though.”

“About what happened in Sliske’s lair?”

“That. And what happened in the Underworld. And what happened with V. And what happened after Zamorak’s botched heist. And what happened in Guthix’s tomb. And what happened…way before then. Everything. It just kind of runs together now.”

He nodded, understanding perfectly. Perhaps one day, he would - could - tell her how his dreams were likewise a blurred amalgam of less-than-pleasant memories. The fires of Freneskae searing across his chest in the spot that Tumeken’s explosion had caught him. The war cries of the Chelon-Mah sounding from the crumbling walls of Senntisten. The face of his half-brother staring back at him from the depths of a mirror.

He took another pull of smoke, this time just letting it plume from his mouth in lieu of actually forming it into a ring.

“Are you still getting sleep, at least?” he asked. Finley nodded, smiling slightly.

“Aye, I am. Akthanakos makes a right good cup of tea. Though, I figure he’s going to have to find some stronger herbs eventually.”

“Ah, I see.” Wahisietel returned her slight smile. She was in capable hands, at least. “As I recall, you never seemed to have trouble sleeping when you and-” - he paused for a moment, smile fading, to gauge if Finley would be alright with him saying the name - “-when you and Adrius lived with me.”

Thankfully, Finley’s reaction to hearing her late husband’s name was anything but negative. Slightly nostalgic and mournful, perhaps, but the broadness of her grin put Wahisietel at ease.

“Things were very different back then, aye?” Her grin turned mischievous as she pointed to the area between her crossed legs. “I could still feel what was going on down _here_ and put my legs to better use than just walking around.”

Wahisietel snorted a puff of smoke from his nostrils, covering his sudden smile with his scarf. Finley guffawed heartily at his reaction, slapping a knee and nearly toppling onto her back.

“HA HA! Aye, I missed that…making you laugh…” She sighed, the last bits of laughter peppering the exhalation. “I miss a lot of things about that year.”

Pulling his scarf down, Wahisietel cough-laughed again, jabbing his pipe in Finley’s direction.

“You know, honestly, I do as well. I had gotten so used to that damnable sock hanging off my doorknob and being kept awake all night!”

This got Finley laughing again, her grin now nothing short of maniacal.

“Oi, if yer missin’ the sock, I’ll just bring Akthanakos around for a night of fun!”

“And you’ll lock me out of my own house _again?!?”_ He was having trouble containing his grin, now. It tugged at the corners of his mouth, straining muscles that hadn’t been used properly for longer than he cared to remember.

“Aye, just like old times!”

Finley raucous laughter was soon matched with his own, all composure and attempts to keep his expression as neutral as possible quickly forgotten.

It almost hurt, smiling - no, _grinning_ \- this broadly again, and his laugh was alien enough to his ears that he balked after a few moments, the sound petering out like a spent engine.

As he quieted himself, his smile still toothy and eye-crinkling, his ears caught the last traces of Finley’s laugh…

_No._

She was no longer laughing.

She was _screaming._

Looking over the campfire, he saw her sprawled on her side, body wracked with spasms and her breath coming in short, strained gasps between her shouts. Floundering in the grass, she was attempting to cover her face and neck with her arm stump, her remaining hand casting around for, he guessed, the wicked-looking lance she used as a weapon that lay a few feet beyond her reach.

“N..NO! GET… _GET AWAY!”_

He’d seen this before. Too many times.

A panic attack.

Wahisietel shot to his feet, eyes darting around in an attempt to find whatever - or whoever - had caused it. It was only until he noticed what her own eyes, wide and flashing, were trained on that he realized what had triggered her panic.

His face.

His smile.

His laugh.

_Him._

Hissing out a curse in some forgotten tongue, he slowly edged over to where Finley struggled, her panicked state only growing worse as he neared her.

“NO!” She trailed off into incomprehensible shrieking as he stood over her, her arms flailing and her eyes shut tight. He knelt down, catching her hand and dodging a swipe at his face, courtesy of that oddly-scarred arm stump.

“Finley.” He called to her, voice as soothing as he could make it, squeezing her hand and placing his free hand on the side of her head. “Finley, it’s just me. It’s Wahisietel.”

She thrashed in his grasp, whimpering and shivering.

“No…please… _Sliske_ …don’t hurt…them… _please…”_

The terror in her voice was too real, and it bit at something deep within Wahisietel’s mind - the same something that she had coaxed out of him during their last meeting.

“Finley, he’s not here. You’re safe.” He shifted his hand until his thumb was at her temple, and he massaged slow, deep circles into the bone there. Bit by bit, her breathing steadied at the motion, and her spasms stilled. “I’m here.”

Her eyes opened, finally, and she looked up at him, gaze drilling into his face. The terror faded a bit, and her panicked whimpers melted into exhausted sobs.

He released her hand and face, instead taking her gently by the shoulders and sitting her upright as she wiped the sweat from her brow. Retrieving her coat, he draped it carefully over her shoulders before sitting down nearby, a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

She still shook, still flinched slightly at the contact, and still wheezed for air, but the worst seemed to be over.

It was another five minutes before either of them spoke.

“W…Wahisietel?” Finley whispered, voice ragged and rough from screaming.

“Yes?”

“S…sorry…”

“Don’t, please,” he sighed, glancing away. “Familial resemblances are…something I’ve become _very_ accustomed to dealing with.”

Another long stretch of silence followed, the campfire now their only light source in the clearing.

“He… _Sliske_ …he’s taken everything from me,” Finley whispered, barely audible. “My husband. My legs. My peace. My friends. Everything. Taken it all and replaced it with his face like the sneering _bastard_ he is.”

“That,” Wahisietel began, his voice, too, a whisper, “is what he does. He takes until there’s nothing left. The only thing you can do is…try to take back what you can, I suppose. Before it’s too late.”

“Aye…”

Sighing, she held out her hand to him, and, after a moment, he took it in his own, feeling the rough callouses and scars that marred the skin of her palm and knuckles. Without warning, she tugged herself over to him and leaned her shoulder against his, her shivers finally quelled.

“What are you doing?” he asked, more curious than anything. She squeezed his hand in response, and he tentatively moved his other hand to her opposite shoulder, almost hugging her to him.

“Exactly what you told me to do - trying to take back what Sliske took from me…”

Though the campfire lay before them, the next two words that Finley spoke warmed Wahisietel more than its embers ever could.

“My friend.”


End file.
